


A golden key fits every door

by stilinskisoul



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bottom!Stiles, Elite School, FBI, Humor, Jock!Jackson, M/M, Possessive!Derek, School Clubs, School Uniforms, Slice of Life, The Maze Runner references, Top!Derek, WIP, jock!Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 10:19:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2147028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinskisoul/pseuds/stilinskisoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, so when Stiles thought about starting a new life, he didn't calculate in that he may have some issues with his uniform.</p><p>This whole thing was meant to be a fresh start, where Stiles can leave behind his clumsy self in the past, and make sure he won't turn into the target of the jocks' jokes. He doesn't want to be the nerd again, though he's proud of being a nerd (because it feels good to be smart, okay, even if it costs him the Prince of Geeks title), but this time it's different. This time the only thing he wanted was to get rid of the goofy card he's been constantly given whenever and wherever he went. But no, destiny must really hate him, because even this tiny little thing is too much to ask.</p><p>Because somebody could please explain him why does he have to be stuck in an elite school, full of snobs, with a <i>girls uniform</i>?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When life gives you lemons, make a lemonade

**Author's Note:**

> **UPDATE 12. 11. 2014.:** I officially put this story on hiatus. At the moment I have no intentions of continuing it, partly because I'm overburdened with my studies, partly because I'm working on another Sterek story which is far better than this one (in my opinion), and I also have a lot more in mind which I also want to write as soon as possible. I'm sorry if you were eager to read the next parts of it, but I can guarantee that it's not going to be updated anytime soon.

Okay, so when Stiles thought about starting a new life, he didn't calculate in that he may have some issues with his uniform.

This whole thing was meant to be a fresh start, where Stiles can leave behind his clumsy self in the past, and make sure he won't turn into the target of the jocks' jokes. He doesn't want to be the nerd again, though he's proud of being a nerd (because it feels good to be smart, okay, even if it costs him the Prince of Geeks title), but this time it's different. This time the only thing he wanted was to get rid of the goofy card he's been constantly given whenever and wherever he went. But no, destiny must really hate him, because even this tiny little thing is too much to ask.

Because somebody could please explain him why does he have to be stuck in an elite school, full of snobs, with a _girls uniform_?

~

Tomorrow's Monday and Stiles' favorite activity is glaring at his uniform from across his room like it was infected or if Stiles does so much as _touches_ it, he will be given the Flare or Ebola or Leprosy or Scarlet, or... any kind of deathly, hideous sickness, really. Stiles finds this theory quite appealing and rational, even if he knows he's never been less reasoning in his life before.

Stiles had been grateful that his Dad's father's legacy was found and thus, they earned enough money to break out from Beacon Hills and move to New York. Yes, he _had_ been grateful for that, the fact that they count as an elite now, the fresh new start, the new school, until this red-eyed monster (name's Stiles' Fate, pleasure to meet you) jumped at him from the corner again out of the blue and ruined his life yet again, thank you very much.

Also, he has to admit that his name has never bugged him once, because he easily dodged it by having the others call him Stiles, and that's what he was going with at Beacon Hills. His name hasn't been the companion of his monster. Until now.

Because when his Dad called his school to ask about this _little problem_ with his uniform, they told him that they've never seen such a name before and for some reason they screwed it up and mistook him for a girl. Stiles admits he has an extraordinary name, okay, but he thinks it's masculine enough to avoid such misunderstandings.

He's seriously considering growing his hair.

~

Silence is awkward at dinner. His Dad obviously wants to ask him how he's feeling and if he's nervous about tomorrow, but he doesn't. His forced silence is even worse than talking about it, Stiles notes in his mind, and he thinks about something to break this ridiculousness, when, miraculously, his Dad speaks up.

“Are you looking forward to school, kiddo?” Stiles shrugs and takes his time to chew and swallow down the piece of food before answering.

“Kinda, I guess, you could say that,” he nods then quickly changes topics before his father even had the chance to open his mouth again. “So how was work at the FBI today?”

“It wasn't any more interesting than a usual day at BHPD,” he answers and puts another bit into his mouth with his fork. Stiles still hasn't been able to get adjusted to the glorious meals yet, but his glutton self is too appreciative in this matter. For a second he even manages to forget about the pitiful future that's awaiting him.

Just for a second.

Because the moment he goes back to his spacious room the sight and the too obvious presence of his uniform burns his retina out. He groans and throws himself down on his bed. Unfortunately, his TV and his wardrobe are close enough to each other to be available for him at the same time—which leads to the conclusion he can't enjoy the video games as much as he wants to, because the ghost of his uniform will be haunting him during the whole time.

He tries to calm himself, though, with the thought that he would have fucked something up sooner or later anyway, re-earning the goofy card.

He discovers he sucks at self-supporting.

~

Now, a minute of silence for the awesome Scott McCall who truly deserves the Best Friend On The World award. That man of a God woke up three hours earlier just to give a call to Stiles in the morning in sake of calming him down.

“But it's awful, man, you haven't even seen it!” Stiles cries out.

“It can't be that bad,” Scott coos. Okay, maybe that award-thing was too early. This guy is having way too much fun with Stiles' unfortunate life.

“I'm sending a photo,” he says and holds the device away from his ear so he can take a picture. Once done, he sends it to Scott.

“I thought you were already wearing it.”

“That's not a smile hiding so nicely in your voice, is it?” Stiles narrows his eyes at his phone suspiciously.

“No,” Scott blurts out after a few moments. Yep, he's definitely fighting back his urge to laugh out loud. Good to know this uni is _actually that bad_.

“Okay, I think I'm calling in to the school that I caught a really bad cold.”

“Summer's just ended, dude, it won't work,” Scott points out, and damn it, he's right. Of all things, why does he have to be right on _this_? Stiles exhales loudly in a resigning manner. “It will be just fine, don't worry too much about it.”

“Uh, yeah, I don't know if you've forgotten, but this is an _elite_ school, okay? Where people are not nice, they are snobs, okay, and they are going to be laughing at me, because, oh my God, it's even worse than a girl getting a men's uniform.”

“You're overthinking it, Stiles,” Scott says. His voice is serious. Stiles remembers that Scott's voice is hardly ever serious. Conclusion: it _means something_. “You always overthink everything. Believe me, being an elite doesn't necessarily come with being a snob as well.” Stiles sighs again. What else could he do? “By the way how's work for your Dad at the FBI?”

“Nothing interesting, that's what he's telling me. At least nothing more yet than at Beacon Hills Police Department.”

“Good to hear that,” Scott says. “Here we have some vicious predators. Two people were torn to pieces. Police suggests it must have been a mountain lion.”

“Do you have pictures?” Stiles asks in an excited voice. “Like, in the newspaper or something. I know you have no permission now to enter the PD without me there.”

“Thanks for reminding me of your absence,” Scott says dryly. “Even if they have pictures of the corpses they haven't shared any in the news, man.”

“Sad story,” Stiles mumbles as he carefully puts his uniform away from the door of his wardrobe, as if it was a bomb that can explode anytime, to be able to open it and look at himself in the mirror. He still has his PJs on—a white T-shirt and red boxer briefs. He's not sure whether if he should be grateful for having slender muscles instead of a sculpted body or not.

“Look, I need to go back to sleep,” Scott says suddenly. Oh, yeah, Stiles is three hours ahead now.

“Sure. Thanks for calling me, dude.”

“You're welcome, bro,” he says and Stiles smiles. “It will be just fine.”

Before Stiles could say anything, the only thing he can hear is the dial tone.

~

Stiles made it as long as he could. He made sure he has to put on that misfortune of clothes as late as possible. But he has to put them on sooner or later, right? After all, he can't go to school in his boxer briefs. So swallowing all of his manly pride and the fear he'll be infected with Flare, he reaches for his uniform and _touches_ it.

Getting dressed has never been so long and such a torturous struggle. It takes Stiles five minutes to put on a few pieces of clothes. Once done, he looks up and down on himself—the uniform consists of a checked red and black mini pleated skirt, a white button-up shirt with short sleeves, a bow with the same pattern as the skirt, a pair of black socks, a red knitted pullover with a low V-neck and a pair of black leather shoes. The sleeves of the sweatshirt cover his hands.

Cool.

~

He's taken to school by a chauffeur in a black limousine. Stiles thinks it's too sassy until he sees that practically _everyone_ is dropped out from such nice cars, if not from better ones. He takes a deep breath, and okay, you can do it man, no one will notice, just act it casual, everything will be okay.

The second he opens the door of the car and steps out, most of the students stop just to stare at him, sure, why not, just go ahead, really. Stiles is seriously considering getting back to the car, which is... gone. Stiles can only watch it as it circles around the angel gargoyle statue before rolling all the way through on the path to leave the territory of the school and arrive back to the road. When Stiles dares to turn back he can see a few girls whispering into each other's ears, guys giving him _looks_ , and now he officially knows that this is going to be _way worse_ than he'd imagined.

He fights his urge to just leave everything behind and run away from the campus, and orders his legs to take him to the two-winged door of the building. Okay, you can do it, see how easy it is, buddy, just one leg after another, right, now the left, that's right, this is how it goes. Stiles gives himself an approving pat on the shoulder mentally for being able to approach the inside of the school without tripping over his own limbs or the staircase that leads to the door.

While walking on the corridors, he makes some mental notes that can come handy later. For example the way he came through; where he turned and on which corner, you know, just avoiding talking to the others. He gives some envious glances to the boys for their uniforms—it's pitch black and consists of a pair of comfy-looking trousers and a knitted sweatshirt with a V-neck as well (but not as low as the girls'), a white button-up shirt and, instead of the bow in the girls' case, a red tie.

Oh how much Stiles wants to change clothes right now.

~

He takes a seat at the back of the classroom. He's sitting in the last row, just in sake of staying under the radar, you know. There is still some time left from the break, and just a minute before the bell would ring, Stiles sees _her_.

She has perfect strawberry blonde hair, perfect lips and eyes, and a perfect body, which can't be hidden even under the hideous uniform that is just simply beautiful on this girl. (Stiles wouldn't have thought he'd ever be able to think of this malicious uniform as something pretty, let alone beautiful. This macabre thing just looks _stunning_ right now.)

Stiles is ignorant to the fact that he's staring with his mouth gaping open, until he's dragged back to reality harshly. A guy appears behind her, one of his arms snake around her waist and they kiss each other. Welcome back, monster Stiles' Fate, fancy seeing you around again!

Except for the fact it isn't.

Stiles decides to drive his attention away from his environment so he reaches for his black backpack and pulls out his pencil case and a notebook. The next time he pays attention to his surroundings again, is when the teacher (who came in who knows how many time ago) starts talking about some clubs. The mentioning of the runner club definitely catches Stiles' interest.

~

The lunch is nothing like he expected. It is practically a _restaurant_ , is what it is. Like, imagine the fanciest restaurant you've ever been to, multiply it by infinite, add some sass to it, and this is it, that's where Stiles is right now.

He scans the room over with his eagle eyes. He spots a really nice place near the walls, and without thinking twice about it, he goes for it. He smiles awkwardly at the guy who's sitting there.

“Hey,” he croaks out. Damn, his voice is weaker and drier than he expected.

“Hey,” the guy says, and his eyes drop down to check Stiles out from top to toe. You know what, screw this uniform. Stiles is thinking of various ways of ending its life, like, killing it with rich fire, tearing it to pieces, sacrificing it to the Satan...

“Can I sit down?” The guy seems to be considering it for a few moments before nodding in agreement.

“Sure, take a seat.”

“Thanks,” Stiles says and quickly throws himself down. “So, uh,” he says intelligently, then sticks his hand out. “I'm Stiles.”

“Isaac,” comes the respond. The bonde guy accepts his hand and shakes it. His grip is not too firm, but not too loose either. “Playing in another team, I see?”

Stiles immediately gets it and starts to shake his head furiously. “No, not at all, no. It's just,” he brushes his fingers over his hair anxiously. “My registration was screwed up and for some reason they mistook me for a girl, y'know.”

Isaac can't hide a smile.

“It have never happened before. At least I don't know about any cases. It's kinda... unexampled?” It sounds like more than a question than a statement. Maybe Isaac isn't entirely sure that he used the most appealing and most appropriate words. Stiles shrugs it off.

“Anyway, my father talked to the school about it already, but they said they can't do anything. They ordered the uniforms already and it can't be changed.”

“Yes, it's an elite school, but still has some limits,” Isaac nods and leans a bit back in his seat when the salad arrives. For some reason Stiles feels frustrated. Though he can't devote too much time to that thought, because his stomach reminds him of his starvation by an impatient growl. He attacks the salad like a starved wicked fox. The only reason why he forces himself to quit eating is because two more people arrive to their table.

“Stiles, this is Erica and Boyd. Boyd, Erica, this is Stiles,” Isaac introduces them to each other, and Stiles, knowing his manners, shakes hands with both of them. They take two seats next to each other and wait patiently until their salads are served as well.

Stiles realizes it's really nice and easy to hold a conversation with these three. They laugh at his jokes, and ignore the fact that he's wearing a girls' uniform. The only thing that matters to them is his personality, and this fact soothes Stiles' hammering heart.

Until the last member of the group arrives to the table as well.

The picture of the strawberry blonde girl is wiped from his memory in an instant, and the only thing he can focus on is the guy who takes the only open space left at the table—which happens to be next to Stiles. The guy sneaks a few glances at him, confusion, unspoken questions and disapproval showing in them. Stiles' mind got frozen the very moment he saw this person, and the system error isn't seem to have in mind to vanish.

“This is Stiles,” he hears Isaac say it, but his brain is hardly able to register the words. “Stiles, this is Derek.” The next thing Stiles knows is that Derek's hand is held out towards him, expecting a shake. Stiles accepts it. After letting go of that hand, Stiles can still feel the touch of it lingering on his skin, leaving him with little jolts of electricity. And anticipation.

During the whole lunch, he can't help but look at the adorable bunny teeth Derek claims from the minute he spotted their existence.

~

Back at home, Stiles makes a mental note that his first day wasn't that bad at all. Right now everyone is busy getting used to school life again. And he already made some friends. Or acquaintances, but still, at least they seem to appreciate his personality and wit.

He gives Scott a call. They chat on the phone for an hour (bro relationship comes with countless things to talk about, even if the subject is about something unimportant), and Stiles considers telling Scott about his experience with that real-life god named Derek, but he ends up staying silent about him. Stiles is well aware that Scott knows he had some crushes on boys, too, so it wouldn't be strange for him, but still. Something tells Stiles it's better not to say a word about him.

He has a warning buzz in his guts that advises him not to get too close to Derek.


	2. Barking dogs seldom bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stiles wouldn't have thought that once one of his favorite activities will make his crush hate him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Stiles wouldn't have thought that once one of his favorite activities will make his crush hate him. But let's just go in order, shall we?

In the morning his alarm goes off and while mumbling something in a painful, morning-raspy tone about 'why am I even alive', he reaches for the device to shut if off. It turns out it wasn't his best choice, because in the end it results in his Dad banging on his door to wake him up (because one of his newest habits is closing his door nowadays). After being shaken awake by fright, his sleepy mind reminds him that it wouldn't be such a bad idea to check the time—he has twenty minutes to get ready _and_ arrive to school.

Stiles is out of his bed in a split second, tearing his door open to see his father's slightly annoyed face, but only rushing passed him to make a beeline to the bathroom. The thought of not having time to have breakfast chases out a somewhat pissed growl from his stomach, but all he can do is trying to forget about it until lunch. Holy God, how much he's looking forward to lunch.

He's done in the bathroom in record time, and also, he forces the uniform on himself in record time. He shoves his backpack on his shoulder and rushes to the limousine that is bound to take him to school.

Eventually, he makes it to the school two minutes before the bell rings.

Stiles falls down on his seat at the exact same time the teacher arrives to class. Yesterday was easy—no lectures were given, which means there was no homework nor anything to learn for today. However, today it's going to change, unfortunately.

What Stiles got to know yesterday was that his new acquaintances (or friends, you know what, let's just go with the term 'friends' because that sounds better) are in another class, but just like Stiles himself, they are seniors, too. Here in this school, there are classes with a classroom each, where the owner classes have most of their lessons, only abandoning it when they have a special subject, like PE.

Stiles knows that today they have a PE lesson, and thinking about that lifts his spirits. (Mostly because that uniform is not too different in the girls' and boys' case, is what it is. The minor reason is because Stiles simply likes body activities, and okay, this sounded really bad right now.) Also, the same grade classes have their PEs together.

“Don't forget to sign up for a club by the end of the week,” the teacher reminds them, finishing his sentence just before the bell could interrupt him. The class stands up in saying goodbye to the teacher. “Let's go to break,” he says, and with that, he's out of sight and on the corridors already.

Stiles starts packing his things up, but instead of going out, he decides to sit down and continue to read that awesome trilogy, _The Maze Runner_. Although he's read the book already, he can't get enough of it, that's why he's re-reading it for God knows how many time.

Back at Beacon Hills, Stiles always used to walk the corridors with Scott, unlike here, because in New York Stiles is practically behaving like an antisocial. But, just as a reminder, an important thing is missing here— _Scott_. And seemingly instead of his best friend he got a girl uniform that he's bound to wear _every. single. day_. Which is not good. Which can easily lead him to suspect that his crush is laughing at him. That he doesn't want him. That they—

Wait. Who the hell said that Derek is attracted to guys in the first place? That's right, _no one_. So Stiles has to remind himself not to get his hopes up so easily. But not even hard. He shouldn't get his hopes up at all. He needs to forget Derek, that's the best choice.

He fidgets a little in his seat and is dying to shove at least one of his legs over the table, but he fights the temptation, knowing it's not really a good idea with a tiny skirt on. And, oh my God, look at that! That wicked clothing apparel is already showing his black boxer briefs. Stiles quickly tugs the skirt lower, mentally asking himself how on earth are the girls able to deal with this on a daily basis. He's fed up already with the fact that he has to make sure the skirt is low enough and isn't showing anything, and it's his second day only.

Stiles preys he'll survive his last year of high school.

~

In the lunch break, Stiles is one of the first ones to invade the dining room. He can't wait for the waiter to serve his meal, but as a start, he has to contain with the salad he's given. He's munching on it when Erica and Boyd arrive.

“Hey, Stiles,” Erica smiles at him, taking the seat in front of him.

“Hey,” Stiles answers. “How's your day so far?”

“Tiring,” she sighs. “But PE's next, so it's okay. My brain is out of service, but it'll have an hour to recover.” Stiles snickers.

“What's for today?” arrives Isaac as well, throwing himself on a seat.

“Japanese cuisine,” Stiles answers, grabbing today's menu and holding it in front of himself. “Miso soup, then sushi and the dessert is mochi.”

“Sounds good,” Isaac nods, appreciating the meal. Acknowledging the absence of Derek creeps its way into Stiles' mind and he looks around once with anticipation, though tries to make it look casual as always, searching and scanning the room for those impressive shoulders, judgemental eyebrows and perfection in general. (He might be a little biased towards Derek. But just _a little_ , alright?) He's dying to ask where that punish-worthily sexy hunk is, he realizes, the desire to ask is literally burning his throat.

Then before he knows, he's already speaking.

“Where's Derek?”

“He's not having lunch today. He said he wanted to workout,” Isaac says. That confuses Stiles and temporarily makes him think of Derek as an extraterrestrial. How could someone, _anyone_ possibly value workout more than food? Well anyway, no wonder why he has such a nice body, which he's going to see just in a bit, by the way, and—

No, think of that ridiculous photoshoot you saw the other day in a magazine, or the film _Conjuring_ , okay, now concentrate on the face the woman made, the corpse hanging down from the tree, on that dog (the poor thing!) that was killed...

Basically, the strategy is simple and easy: _think of anything, but Derek._

Because this stupid skirt will hide _less_ than a pair of pants would. And again: Stiles is missing boys' uniform.

“–les? Stiles?” Stiles shakes his head and blinks once or twice before focusing his amber gaze on Erica.

“What?” he asks confusedly.

“I asked you if you knew which club you'll sign up to.”

“Oh,” he says with a nod. “Well, I'm planning on joining the runner club, but I guess I'll go through all of them. Just in case, y'know.” Erica smiles and nods, putting a little piece of food into her mouth. “And how about you?”

“I'll go for the tennis club.”

“I'm thinking of the lacrosse club,” Boyd says. Wow, so his voice is deep. Stiles can't recall a time he's heard him speaking before.

“I have the photographers in mind,” Isaac adds as well.

Following this conversation, they have a chit-chat about unimportant things, for example that funny-looking teacher with his ridiculous glasses and the History teacher who _literally_ looks like Hitler himself with his little mustache and side-brushed hair. Stiles starts to ease up around these people, and begins to see this school far less dramatically than at the beginning.

~

That is, until he arrives to the locker rooms.

“Look, a little girl lost her way and mistook the boys' changing room for the girls',” a guy coos and the others laugh. Stiles knows him already. They are classmates, and there's just no way he didn't know who this bluish-green eyed, dark blonde guy was, who kissed the strawberry blonde princess (no, really, she _does_ count as a princess at school) the other day—his name is Jackson Whittemore and Stiles doesn't think he's exaggerating if he says he's the biggest dickhead he's ever seen in his life. Put a guy like him into BHHS, and everyone's life is guaranteed to turn into a living Hell. Fancy Asswipe darts a few more pitying glances at Stiles before he starts to mind his own business again, which is to get ready and change clothes in time.

Once Stiles is ready as well, he sneaks a few glances at the other boys around him. He notes in his mind that their uniform is the same—a pair of black pants with two red stripes on its sides and a black T-shirt—except for the fact that his clothes are somewhat tighter and compliment his shape a little more. (And he also got shorts, which he will definitely not wear. Ever.) He feels a little uncomfortable, but it's still better than the other one, right? Right.

He goes outdoors to the field. It's fenced and its ground is concrete, and the thing Stiles likes about it the most is that it's surrounded by trees. The school campus stretches on a huge territory, and there are some spots and paths where the trees are absent, however, most part of it is covered by green vegetation (which is not entirely green now, due to the beginning of the fall). It's also similar to a park, because some benches can be found randomly.

When Stiles approaches the huge sports court, he can see a few fellow students there, already warming up, and Derek as well, leaning against the fence with his right shoulder and his arms crossed over his chest, body is—oh my God—damp and his clothes have several darker sweat-spots covering them. He must have great endurance, Stiles thinks. However, according to the fact his face's color is back to normal and his breathing is even, he must have been on a break for a while.

The teacher announces that this lesson is to be devoted for mensurations, starting with running—something that was definitely invented for Stiles. He ignores the fact how smug Derek's actions are, and just takes his time to find a place for himself outside the court. They are bound to run around the school and among the trees.

The second the teacher blows his whistle, the run begins. The girls aren't even trying to run anything good, rather choosing to gossip with each other.

On the other hand, a great competition is about to start up between the boys. They are far ahead of the girls, and except for some of them, all guys are trying their best to come first. After five minutes the order starts to gain a shape with Stiles and Derek rivaling with each other at the very front, Jackson following up not too far away behind the two, and the rest trying to break through somehow, but failing miserably at it. Stiles knows that he's a few inches ahead of Derek, and the only thing his victory's depending on besides his speed is his endurance. He really needs to concentrate not to trip over anything, especially not when he recognizes the top of the fence ghosting above the foliages.

In the end, Stiles comes first.

Derek is the second to reach the court, just a few seconds after Stiles did, then comes Jackson and soon all of them arrive. The boys are given a little time to gain their strength back until the girls arrive, too. Derek throws a threatening glare at Stiles before turning away from him to talk to Jackson. His movements are full of anger, which Stiles can't really put anywhere. Why is he so pissed at him all of a sudden?

“You beat Derek in running,” says Isaac, almost choking on air. His face is flushed red, and Stiles is sure his must be something similar looking as well. A smile tugs up the corners of Stiles' lips, being sure he'll be complimented. But reality is just not like that for Stiles. “Derek has never been beaten before.”

It takes Stiles a few moments to realize that Derek is nervous because _he_ won. His crush hates him now (not that he couldn't have hated him before). Oh my God, could this get any worse?

“I suggest you don't talk to him until he decides to notice you again,” Isaac advises, patting Stiles' chest a few times encouragingly before leaving him for Boyd's company.

The only thing Stiles can do is stare in front of himself, into infinity, with his mouth open in sake of panting. And yes, it can always get worse; Stiles' Fate is back, and the red-eyed monster hypothetically pats him on the shoulder in a compliment, thank you very much.

Congratulations, Stiles. Derek is officially holding a grudge against you.

_What to do now?_

~

Changing back to their casual uniform is a struggle. And not because his is unfortunately different from the other guys', but because this time Derek is also there, and Stiles is trying his best not to even do so much as _glance_ at him while he's changing shirts or (even better) his pants. When thinking about this changing room thing during lunch break, he didn't really imagine it like this.

Stiles can't decide if he likes Derek's abs or thighs better.

~

Today is full of surprises, Stiles discovers. They don't stop coming at him even when he's at home: during dinner his father informs him that he's in charge of a tough homicidal case starting today, Scott announces that he's officially a couple with Allison now (at last), Isaac explains him via Skype that Derek is kind of the King of Sports at school whom he fucking _luckily_ managed to beat, Stiles gets to know that he sucks at playing _Resident Evil 6_ (he hasn't played it in a while, alright, that's why he's so clumsy), and the trail of surprises won't seem to stop even after he fell asleep.

Another surprise is awaiting him tomorrow, which he's not sure whether if he's happy for or afraid of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!
> 
> I'm glad for the positive feedbacks I got from all of you, I'm really happy for them, I can't even interpret it enough. I hope you liked this chapter as well, and are looking forward to the next one.
> 
> I'm sorry if my writing was confusing at some parts, I know my English is not the best. ^^'

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!
> 
> When this idea came to my mind I just _had to_ write it. I loved to picture Stiles like this, and I have a lot of ideas for his work as well as many ideas to spice the main storyline. 
> 
> Right now I have in mind to write this story and to post the Maze Runner-Teen Wolf crossover ASAP.
> 
> I hope most of you will find joy in reading this. :)


End file.
